


If You Don't Feel Bad After Stepping On Your Pet's Foot You're A Monster

by jakalboy



Series: Drajon AU [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Light Swearing, a sentient creature pretending to have cat level intelligence because he's embarassed, and not good in social situations, jon is a dragon au, martin being capable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 07:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakalboy/pseuds/jakalboy
Summary: Martin finds out he's been feeding his boss cat treats.





	If You Don't Feel Bad After Stepping On Your Pet's Foot You're A Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Drajon.......... 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Special thanks to @watchersclown on tumblr who came up with the idea for this, ur a real homie

Most days in the archives were boring. There wasn’t much to do, especially for three people, and Mr. Sim was almost never there to observe or give work. Martinspent most of his days helping the very few who came looking for a book (not to be taken out of the library), patting down said few upon taking their leave (to make sure no books were being smuggled out), and trying to win Jon’s heart.

Martin had always been good with animals, and the barn cat had loved him, so he had figured that earning Jon’s trust would be easy. The dragon was quite catlike. He loved long naps in the sunlight, climbing up structures he absolutely shouldn’t climb, and scratches under the chin when you could get close enough. A few treats and a calm demeanor should’ve been all that was needed.

But apparently, Martin was wrong. Jon was the prickliest cat he ever met, which should’ve made sense, since Jon was a dragon. He seemed insulted by the toys, only took the bits of meat Martin offered when he wasn’t looking, and hardly ever paid any attention to him or let him close. The times when he was allowed to touch were very nice, though- his warm, smooth scales were like nothing Martin had ever felt, and he made an adorable rumbling noise when his chin was scratched. But those moments were always followed up by many, many days of an aggressively cold shoulder. 

So it was with simmering jealousy that Martin watched Sasha play with Jon. 

“Are you admiring your scales?” Sasha cooed at the small dragon, who indeed seemed to be examining his reflection in Sasha’s sword. “Those are your pretty scales, yes they are.” 

Jon huffed,flapped his wings a couple times experimentally, and held his them out proudly. 

“Yes, yes, you look magnificent, Boss,” Tim said. He edged around the corner of the table with an armful of books on what looked like folklore. His favored subject. “The embodiment of majesty and all that. Sasha, do you have to do this in this corner of the library?”

“You can use a different table. What, you think that something is going to jump out at you? Here?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, you’re taking the comfiest chair.”

Sasha smiled innocently and propped her feet up on the table. “First come, first- ow!” She flinched as Jon suddenly forgot the sword and launched himself at her closest foot. His claws dug slightly into the thick leather. “Ugh, his claws are so- pokey!” Jon released her boot and she quickly took them off the table.

“Are you okay?” Martin called over. 

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry. He didn’t pierce any skin.” She stuck her tongue out at Jon, who stalked away. “He’s a grumpy little thing.”

“Well, aren’t dragons supposed to be?” Tim asked. “Even if he is a weirdly small one.” His pile of books swayed dangerously.

“I think they’re supposed to be mean?” Martin offered. He watched as Jon slunk around the tables by Tim’s feet, gazing up at the books. “Like, burn villages and steal treasure and all that.”

“And princesses,” Sasha added.

“And princesses.”

“Well, I think dragons are supposed to talk, too,” Sasha said. “And Jon certainly doesn’t. I think he might be a baby dragon. Or that the myths might not be exactly right?”

“The myths better be right,” Tim grumbled.

“You want Jon to be mean?” Martin asked.

“No, I- fuck!” Tim’s pile swayed too far to the left and toppled. Tim took a frantic step forward towards the falling books, and the thuds of their collisions with the floor were mixed with a loud reptilian shriek. 

Tim looked down and paled, quickly lifting his foot. Jon shot out and scrambled across the room, holding one of his claws in the air. Sasha gasped.

Martin leapt to his feet. “Tim!”

“I didn’t mean to! He just- ran underfoot!”

“That’s what animals do! His claw could be broken!”

“Shit,” Tim groaned. “I’m so fired.”

“No, you’re not,” Martin said. “I’m going to go fix it, alright? You clean up the books.”

“We should make sure none of them are damaged, too,” Sasha said. “That could definitely get you fired.”

Martin ignored the rest of the conversation as he ran out of the room after Jon. This was going to be difficult- where in the archives might an injured, frightened animal go to hide? He checked under several shelves before deciding, no, that was more of Jon’s angry hiding spot. But where else… 

That was when he noticed a beam of light that was not usually in this room. He looked up to see Mr. Sim’s office’s door cracked open, unusually, and the lit sunstones inside casting a bright shaft of light across the floor. 

Martin cautiously crept up to the door and looked through.

There was Mr. Sim, in all his scraggly, attractive glory. His black hair, usually tied in a neat braid over his shoulder, was loose down his back. His glasses were missing, and his attire was uncharacteristically shabby- they looked the like old, ratty clothes filled with holes that one might pull out of the bottom of their drawers if they haven’t cleaned in a while. His teeth were gritted in pain, and he was carefully wrapping some cloth bandages around his darkly bruised hand. 

“Is it broken?” Martin asked, pushing the door open. Sim startled and dropped the roll of bandages. 

“M-Martin! What are you doing in here? Knocking is usually something one should do-”

“You left the door open.” He walked over and took Sim’s hand, not leaving any room for argument. He carefully prodded the hand, monitoring the feel of the bones underneath and Sim’s winces. “Well. No bones broken. Only some deep bruising, I think.”

Sim snatched his hand back. “I  _ knew _ that, thank you.”

Martin decided not to point out that bandages don’t help with bruises. “I can get you a bucket of cold water to soak it in, if you’d like, Jon?”

“That would be nice,” Sim said. “Thank you- oh.” He carefully fixed his gaze on the floor.

“So dragons  _ can _ speak human languages, then.”

“And more,” Jon said gruffly. 

“Why’d you hide this?” Martin asked gently. He knew to keep his voice low. You don’t act suddenly around nervous creatures. And nervous people. (Which one did Jon count as, anyway?)

“Well- um. I, ah, I meant to tell you all on the first day?” Jon said, more like a question than anything. “But, ah, Tim called me a pet and I got annoyed and forgot, and then the right time never came, and it all felt, ah, awkward…”

Martin fought down a smile and a giggle. “Really? That’s it?”

Jon’s cheeks darkened faintly. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“I swear! It’s just… kind of silly.”

Jon sighed and crossed his arms. “... I suppose it is.”

Martin smiled. “If you want, I can tell the others.”

“No!” Jon straightened up. “Please, don’t. That would be even  _ worse. _ And, and you all do better work when you think you aren’t being observed!”

“...Jon, you will need to tell them.”

“I will. Just, don’t tell them for me?”

“Fine,” Martin sighed. “As long as you tell them eventually.” He stepped out of the office. “I’ll go get that water, okay?”

“Yes, fine. Thank you, Martin.” 

Martin closed the door behind himself and leaned against it, taking a moment to process.

Oh.

Oh no.

He’d… he’d been feeding his boss cat treats.

No wonder Jon didn’t want to tell the others yet.


End file.
